


Song of the sea

by acrosspontneuf (FangedAngel)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F, pirate wives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 23:16:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19755754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangedAngel/pseuds/acrosspontneuf
Summary: Isabela wakes to a golden languor that still feels like a dream. The sun filters warmly into the captain’s cabin, and her lips are pressed to Lottie’s freckled shoulder because it’s how she fell asleep, and they’re tangled together in a sweet mess of sheets.





	Song of the sea

**Author's Note:**

> Another commission for the perfect [Aly](https://princessbatteringram.tumblr.com), this time featuring the amazing, romantic, and ever so subtle mage Lottie Hawke.

Isabela wakes to a golden languor that still feels like a dream. The sun filters warmly into the captain’s cabin, and her lips are pressed to Lottie’s freckled shoulder because it’s how she fell asleep, and they’re tangled together in a sweet mess of sheets.

The ship is uncharacteristically quiet. Having docked in Hercinia the previous night, most of the crew enthusiastically departed on shore leave. Only the bare minimum remained behind as security. Hercinia has become less of a haven for raiders in the past few years, but Isabela has learned the hard way to leave nothing to chance.

For now, all is peaceful. All she can hear is the gentle lap of waves against the hull, the creak of wood, and the melody of the sea, and Lottie’s breathing. It’s perfect.

Isabela can tell by the light that it’s afternoon, but she lives for these lazy days in bed, docked along the Waking Sea. The world isn’t ending, and the past feels very far away, the ashes of Kirkwall just a distant nightmare, the death and the sorrow mere memories. There is nothing but this peace, and Isabela keeps expecting to wake up from whatever magic has allowed her to live this ideal, but Lottie’s always there, the last sight she sees before falling asleep, the first sight she sees when she wakes, the beauty she dreams of when she rests.

Lottie snuffles in that adorable way of hers, lashes fluttering as sunlight finds her face, and Isabela laughs softly, as horribly endeared as usual. She’d expected this phase to wear off, the way she’s so utterly besotted, but if anything this time spent at sea has made it all worse, and she can’t even be upset about it. Instead, she nuzzles Lottie’s shoulder for what must be the millionth time, the freckles there as familiar to her as breathing, her lips tracing a soft and gentle line towards Lottie’s collarbone. Lottie smiles, that sweet smile that curls one corner of her mouth more than the other, and she makes this hushed happy little sound that always makes Isabela’s heart flutter like a lovesick pup’s.

‘Timesit?’ Lottie asks, with her characteristic morning eloquence, snuggling into Isabela without opening her eyes.

Isabela brushes her nose against Lottie’s and then kisses her forehead, lingering in the beauty of the moment before finally attempting to disentangle herself from the sheets.

‘Time to disembark and check on our crew, sweetness.’

Isabela sets about gathering her clothing from where it’s been strewn carelessly around the cabin by impatient hands. She finds her daggers under a misshapen chair, and turns to comment on this to Lottie only to find her mage not only out of bed but also fully clothed. Lottie’s hair is already up in her usual mess of a bun, and she’s humming the notes of a bawdy song one of the boatswains has been teaching her. There’s a dreamy look on her face that Isabela is as suspicious of as she is of this unusual haste. Only Lottie matches Isabela’s laziness at the start of the day, and this routine is not at all part of the norm. She continues being suspicious as Lottie kisses her cheek while still humming that tune.

‘I’ll meet you at the tavern, love, I have some letters to send.’

Isabela arches her eyebrow but Lottie’s already on her way out of the cabin, so there’s no time to comment. She can hear Lottie rummaging and then the unsubtle clinking of a worrying amount of coin and then Lottie disembarks and Isabela’s left still mostly undressed and wondering what Lottie is plotting this time around.

*

By nightfall, Isabela makes her way towards the tavern, a heavy coinpurse on her hip following the completion of her errands. She’s planning on how many payments she needs to make and repairs that need done, and how to make sure the coin covers at least two more of Lottie’s spontaneous plans. She’s caught up in her calculations (and how is this her life again?) but not caught up enough to not notice Lottie trying to sneak up on her from the shadows. Isabela still doesn’t know if it’s the magic or if it’s just Lottie’s general presence, but she can always tell when Lottie is near. It’s like the air bends around her, like it transforms, like it fills with energy that crackles around her. Isabela’s been able to feel her from the very start, so it’s no surprise, but it hasn’t stopped Lottie from trying, and it hasn’t stopped Isabela from playing along. She knows that Lottie’s going to go for the hat before Lottie even gets close enough, but she laughs anyway, joyous and unrestrained and not even slightly annoyed, though she lunges for the hat still, as she always does. Isabela’s very fond of her admiral’s hat, but the sight of Lottie running around with it like she’s accomplished a great feat is even better, and Isabela always wins this game, in the end. She lets Lottie think she has the upper hand and then gives chase while Lottie is distracted by waving the hat in the air, while the locals stare at the two of them playing like children with no small amount of consternation.

Isabela wins her hat back when Lottie pauses at the tavern door, all intent like she’s waiting for something. There is a suspicious absence of noise coming from within, but before Isabela can query it, Lottie swoops right in and kisses her, all quick softness and fingers linking with Isabela’s and then she opens the door and pulls her inside.

In the tavern, there is momentary silence, and then everything erupts into boisterous merriment. Lottie grins at her, and Isabela wants to glare, she really does, but Lottie twirls her in front of the gathered crowd and Isabela has to laugh. There is a large group of minstrels gathered in the corner, singing something about love that Isabela’s heard Lottie hum before. The townsfolk are huddled around, staring at the pair of them like they’re expecting something, and Isabela’s about to ask, about to voice the realisation that’s just dawned on her, but then the music stops and silence descends once more, and when Isabela looks away from the minstrels she finds Lottie kneeling on the floor, grinning with all the joyful innocence in the world, still holding on to Isabela’s hand.

Fifty protests are about to leave Isabela’s lips at once, but they fade into nothingness when Lottie speaks.

‘Bela,’ she says, her voice undulating around Isabela’s name in that way that always makes her knees go weak. ‘Bela, we’ve been through a lot together. I fell for you the first time I saw you, and I love you with every breath. We’re each other’s strength and each other’s fate, and I want to be at your side for as long as we have. Will you marry me?’

Isabela’s distracted, by Lottie’s tone, by Lottie’s words, by the flush in her cheeks that makes her freckles stand out even more, by the way Lottie’s thumb is drawing patterns across her palm, but when it all sinks in she twines her fingers through Lottie’s and laughs, tears in her eyes and emotion making her heart race. She sinks to her knees and cups Lottie’s face and calls her ridiculous before kissing her, and kissing her, and kissing her. The silence drags on as the entire tavern seems to hold its breath, and Isabela turns just slightly to face their audience.

‘Dear folk, I appreciate the fervour, but this woman here has been my wife for years.’

Laughter breaks out, and many heads shake in confusion, but then the tavern’s patrons loudly join together in cheer and song. Isabela kisses Lottie through several songs as people around them drink and dance and toast their health, the smell of ale strong in the air, but nothing will ever be as intoxicating to Isabela as Lottie is, and the thought doesn’t even worry her anymore.

They sway together for a long time in an approximation of a dance in the midst of the festivities, and Isabela doesn’t even enquire as to the amount of coin lining the purses of the travelling minstrels and the locals. It doesn’t matter. Lottie is glowing with happiness as they hold each other, foreheads pressed together, and Isabela wants to hold on to this forever, hold on to the happiness, to the ease, to it being just the two of them.

Later, much later, they walk back toward the ship, and it takes longer than it should because they’re still tangled together and unwilling to part, and their footsteps and laughter echo through the empty streets.

‘How many more ports are you going to do this in, sweetness?’ Isabela asks, as Lottie presses kisses to her cheek, and the warmth of Lottie’s laughter fans over her skin.

‘I don’t have a definite number in mind, my love.’

Isabela hums a little and kisses her again as they reach the ship, all sweetness and spice and promise. She knows nothing about what the future holds, but she does know that Lottie will be in it, and Isabela wants to celebrate every moment they have, every shared breath. They steal some more time holding each other, listening to the waves against the hull. Before they climb aboard, Lottie twirls Isabela again and Isabela breathes in her favourite scents, Lottie and the sea, and she wonders at this feeling of safety that she never thought she’d have.

‘You didn’t give me an answer, Bela. Will you marry me?’

Lottie’s grin makes Isabela’s breath catch, but she doesn’t let it show. She looks at her hand, carefully inspecting her nails, twirling her ring, taking her time until Lottie starts fidgeting, her fingers drumming a rhythm against Isabela’s back.

‘I’ll think about it, sweetness.’

She breaks away with one of her most legendary and dangerous smirks, and laughs as she hears Lottie stumbling all over herself in her haste to follow, her mage calling out an indignant ‘hey!’ in her wake.

Isabela’s laughter drifts into the town on the breeze along with the bells of the ships coming into port, and then silence falls once more.


End file.
